Memoirs
by SearScare
Summary: A dog can be a woman's best friend too. The changes it can bring can teach a person to love and to hate. To desire and to regret. To make mistakes and learn from them. To fail and to succeed. To live and die with complete happiness. All she had to do is give it a chance; a chance to start a beautiful journey together. Set after The Last Olympian. Ignoring Heroes of Olympus.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thought I'd try something different to break the mold. Reviews are desired greatly to see if this can work.**

* * *

**THE FIRST.**

The truth is, I met him entirely by accident. I'd like to say that it was destiny –that I was meant to find him so that he could enrich my life– but in all honesty, if I hadn't gone the way I had, I'd have probably never bumped into him.

The day, as I recall (though my memory is undoubtedly a little faulty) was a beautiful one. Summer hadn't quite relinquished its hold over to autumn and the leaves were still high up in the trees. The sky was a bright blue with faint wisps of cloud visible on the horizon.

I was walking through my school's extensive campus—a campus which mostly comprised of acre upon acre of neatly trimmed, bright green grass and bright flowers. It was Orientation day and I'd had a fairly enjoyable hour as the student council representative showed me (and the other new admissions) around. I'd filled out my room requirements, had made a few acquaintances and was now walking about aimlessly, waiting for my father to pick me up.

He was late as usual.

But I didn't really mind since it was such a beautiful day. Here and there, students lounged about, soaking up the sun and chatting to each other. I saw girls of all types—black haired, brunettes, blondes, platinum blondes, you name them. The usual high school divisions were also clearly seen but with a few noticeable changes. The "popular" clique didn't look like dumb jocks. They were an interesting mix of what seemed to be intelligent people with varied interests. The introverts weren't huddled in a corner, looking miserable. They lay about, engaged in solo activities: reading books, listening to music, and the like.

I liked how relaxed the atmosphere was and immediately decided to try my best at the school. I'd had my doubts –doubts raised mostly by my father since he didn't want me moving across the country to "live on my own" – but then again, who didn't when they moved to a new place?

Smiling serenely to a couple of people I'd met in Orientation (Diana and Arizona I think their names were) I passed by and headed for a quiet spot, figuring I'd pass the time by going over the plans for Olympus I'd stashed in my backpack.

A set of stone steps next to a bunch of flowerbeds seemed reasonable and I sat down, keeping half an eye out in case the nearby groundskeeper had any problems. He was a tall man, with what I could only describe as faded brown hair and skin which spoke of working in the sun for hours. He was utterly bent on his task of keeping the length of the grass uniform and didn't bother glancing my way.

Deciding that I was safe, I pulled out my sheets and thumbed through the first one, making notes on the margin whenever I found something to correct. The first phase of rebuilding Olympus was starting on Friday –the weekend before school started– and I wanted to make sure everything was perfect.

The flowers next to me rustled.

Years of defending myself against monsters had ingrained me with an annoying habit of treating any out of place sound as a potential threat. Within half a moment, I had my dagger out, poised for attack.

The adorable face of a golden retriever puppy stared back at me.

We stared at each other in five seconds, he (for it was undoubtedly a he) in openly curious, and me in faint puzzlement (wondering where on earth he'd appeared from) before I dropped my arm. The puppy couldn't have been more than a month old, he was _tiny_. I could have picked him up and lobbed him a dozen feet if I wanted to.

I didn't want to.

Apparently settling on the fact that I wasn't a threat, he struggled over a bunch of flowers (I threw the groundskeeper a nervous look) and tentatively put his snout to my wrist. His nose (like most dogs) was cold and wet and contrasted sharply with the warmth of the day.

I pulled my hand back: I didn't want dog snot all over my blueprints.

The puppy didn't like that. Drawing every ounce of strength he had he struggled over the side of the step and tried to push himself into my lap. Afraid that he was going to track mud over the papers, I shoved them back into the bag, dropping the pencil in after.

'You're a determined one aren't you?' I muttered, a little impressed by the puppy's persistence to climb over my leg even as I kept pushing him back. Half a minute of gentle shoving was enough for me to get my way: he gave up and collapsed next to me, panting heavily.

A little part of me melted and I reached for the bottle of water out of my bag, pouring out the liquid in front of the puppy, hoping he'd have enough sense to lick it up.

He looked at me as though I was a complete idiot.

That caught my attention for two reasons. One, because, well, I didn't expect a puppy to be so intelligent or have the mannerisms to convey his frustration. Two (and ironically the more startling one) was because the puppy had bright blue eyes. Golden retrievers didn't usually have blue eyes. It wasn't in their genetic build-up. I wondered if somewhere along his lineage, a Husky had had his way with the puppy's great-great-great grandmother.

The puppy still stared at me, rather expectantly.

'What?' I asked self consciously. How in the world was I supposed to know what he wanted? I didn't speak "dog" or any varied dialect of it.

Nosing me gently, with his snout, the puppy made gestures to the bottle I was still holding. He was obviously wanted the water: that much even I could make out. Why, then was he refusing to lick up the pool I'd poured out at his feet?

A sudden idea struck me, and I cupped my left hand, making it into a vertical "C." Entirely unsure of what I was doing, and sure that if anyone saw me, they'd think me to be a complete idiot, I tipped the bottle slightly and filled my palm with water.

Immediately, the puppy put his wet snout into my hand and lapped up the water in record time. Once he was done, he raised his head and waited, once again, expectant.

I frowned at him. 'Oh pardon me,' I said, repeating the process once more, 'it's not like I have actual things to do.'

The puppy ignored me and finished the water. It took five handfuls of water to satisfy him and by then my bottle was empty (mostly because I'd dropped so much in and around in the plans) so I couldn't have helped him even if I wanted to.

He whined at me and gave my hand a gentle nip (he didn't have any teeth) before falling back into the flowerbed and wandering off. I watched him go, half amused and half worried. While the puppy seemed more than capable of taking care of itself, he wasn't old enough to ingest anything except his mother's milk. And the mother didn't seem to be around at all.

Just then, my phone rang, signalling that my father was calling. A minute later, I found out, much to my annoyance that he'd lost his way to my school and needed directions. All thoughts of the puppy vanished, and I got up, rolling my eyes as I did so.

Only my father could screw up a GPS of a rented car.

* * *

A month into school, I was nearly run off my feet. Sophomore year was _not _a piece of cake and I was already dreading the fact that Junior and Senior year were just around the corner. Between designing plans for Phase Two of Olympus' reconstruction, scoring sufficiently well on the weekly pop quizzes and handing in assignments on time, I didn't have a moment to spare.

The room I shared with two other people (Diana and a girl called Wembley who I _hadn't_ met at the Orientation) was of average size and once it got filled in with our stuff, there wasn't a lot of place to pace and think. As a result, I spent all my free time (which wasn't much) down in the Common Room, along with the others from my year. Most of them were decent and intelligent, (with the fees we were paying it would be a sacrilege to waste the resources at hand) but a couple had empty eggshells in their heads. In any case, I didn't interact with the latter group and formed a comfortable friendship with my two roommates.

I say comfortable, because I was determined to avoid any confrontation with them. Fighting with people you live with is not a good idea. Which is why when Diana and Wembley got into an argument over who forgot to turn off the geyser, I, very wisely, muttered an excuse and beat a quick retreat.

I first intended to go to the Common Room, but to my disgust I found that one of the airhead's was raining forth on her latest breakup. I didn't have the patience to sit through it so I went down to the grounds, figuring I had about an hour before the dinner bell rang—something which would leave me with no choice but to go back to my room.

The campus was nearly empty except for a group of Seniors enjoying what looked a picnic to me, and I gave them a wide berth. Wandering away to a patch of petunias, I cursed myself for not having the foresight to bring my designs. Not that I could really work in the fading light.

I rounded the flowers, lost in thought of the coming weekend (Percy had finally gotten his act together and mentioned he had something planned) when an excited whine broke my reverie.

Sitting in front of me, with his head cocked in recognition, was my friend the puppy.

I was a little surprised. I hadn't seen him since that day of Orientation and after a couple of days of half-hearted searching; I just assumed he'd disappeared, as most puppies usually do. But there he was, looking utterly at ease despite being within three feet of me.

'Hey.' I said, feeling like an idiot for talking to something that couldn't really respond, 'where've you been? I've been looking for you.'

The puppy made an odd snorting noise as though he didn't believe a word I'd said. Either that, or I was projecting my vague guilt for not trying harder on to him.

I sat down in front of him and held out a hand cautiously.

After a moment of deliberation, he got off his haunches and put his face into my hand, after giving it an experimental lick. I get my fingers run through his soft fur and marvelled and how much he'd grown since I'd last seen him. It was almost as though he'd doubled in size and length and his fur had a deep, rich look to it.

Somebody, I didn't know who, was definitely feeding him. Either that or he'd found some good nourishment in the grounds.

'You're friendly, aren't you?' I whispered, as the puppy wound his way around my hand and started sniffing my shoes with great fervour. As most retrievers, he seemed to have an open, easy going demeanour with that tell-tale intrinsic confidence. I quite liked it really.

He lost interest in my shoe soon enough and commenced giving me a thorough sniff-down. I waited patiently to go through with it; only objecting when he started to pull my hair out of my pony tail. With each passing moment, he grew more and more excited and after I while I had to hold him down gently, telling him to "stay."

The puppy was remarkably intelligent: I had to give him that. After a few minutes of me repeating the word "stay" and letting him go, to see if he obeyed, he remained on the ground, his snout pushed up in excitement, but his body glued to the ground.

I patted him on the snout. 'Good boy.'

And so of course, he immediately jumped back on me, pleased by the encouragement.

I stayed with him for almost an hour, talking to him about lots of things. I didn't really have any definite idea of what I should say or not, so I started out by giving him an introduction, figuring he'd want to know a little about the stranger whose lap he kept trying to get into. I described my life in detail to him, only glossing over the Demigod parts of it. Call me paranoid, but I didn't want to say that out loud in case someone heard.

I complained to him about my dad, and stated eloquently on the awesomeness of my mom, without giving away who she was of course. I even told him about Percy, and mentioned in passing my high hopes for the relationship.

The puppy was a very good listener. After a while he gave up on pursuing every scent on my clothes and settled down in front of me, his ears pricked in response to my voice.

'You need a name.' I decided after the moment of silence and stretched comfortably between us. 'Something would good character.'

The puppy watched me unwaveringly, his blue eyes wide with concentration.

I ran through a quick list of dog names in my head. All of them sounded incredibly cheesy (and I definitely wasn't stooping low enough to call him Fluffy or Goldie or Lucky or something as ridiculous) but I didn't have much time. The dinner bell was five minutes away and I had dirt on the seat of my pants which I was pretty sure would be very noticeable as soon as I walked into the hall.

Sudden inspiration struck and I held out a finger for him to nibble on.

'I think I'll name you Duke.'


	2. Chapter 2

**THE SECOND.**

Throughout the next month, Duke continued to grow rapidly. Of course, _what _he grew on was entirely a mystery to me. In fact, a lot of things about him were mysteries to me, other than the fact that I had no idea what he ate. I also didn't know where he lived, or where he slept, who his mother was and if he was simply a stray or an abandoned puppy.

Then again, just because I'd named him didn't mean he was _my _dog. In fact, with the way Duke lived his life, it became clear that he wasn't _anyone's_ dog. He came and went as he pleased. I took to doing my homework in the grounds during the afternoon because that was usually when he came loping around. Though the timing was never fixed as such, and he often came as early as after lunch, or as late as five p.m., he never failed to meet me every day.

How the ritual started, I can't really say for sure, but soon we fell into an easy rhythm. During the morning he'd vanish off into the unknown as I worked my way through class. Then, after lunch, I'd usually hang out with the roommates, discussing the day and whatever other topic of interest came up. At around two thirty, when both of them took naps, I'd head to the flower beds and sketch my Olympus designs in relative peace and quiet.

When Duke eventually arrived, it was an unspoken agreement between us that my papers were off limits to his paws though at the same time, I wasn't allowed to work with said papers, and had to devote my entire attention to him for at least an hour.

He was quite an energetic puppy and most of the afternoons I spent chasing him around the edges of the school campus. He was excellent at retrieving things but would tire of it soon. He was impatient, excitable and loud. Very loud. As he grew older, Duke's bark became deeper and more prominent. Half of the time I resigned myself to the fact that the school authorities would find us because of the noise he made and cart him out.

Eventually, I got around to training him. I'm not entirely sure why I did it: because it was pretty clear that Duke would never really belong to me, but it probably evolved from the fact that I constantly needed to occupy him during our time together.

Despite his age, Duke learned quickly. He began responding to his name three days after I gave it to him and soon, with a little help from a dog manual I picked up in the city and a supply of chewable treats that I smuggled into school, I could get him to obey most of my commands and learn to avoid the main area of a school even if I was around and it was our time to meet.

He had great instincts and it wasn't much of a struggle. The only thing which frustrated me was that I had to break his training into bits of ten of fifteen minutes. Even for a Retriever, he didn't possess the patience to go through it after a quarter of an hour. This, I would soon realize, was something common to all dogs.

Despite my repeated attempts to keep his existence a secret, people eventually found out that a dog roamed the grounds often—a fact first reported by Mr. Donald Faversham, our resident groundskeeper, after he found his careful bed of daisy's ruined.

The school administration tried very hard to keep Duke out, but the problem was that the dog was entirely unpredictable, and they like me, had no idea where he came from. Once, I'd even tried to follow him back home but the look of reproach he gave me when he turned around and found me trying to (unsuccessfully) hide behind a tree told me that his independence was something he held in high regard.

I never encroached on his privacy again.

My roommates eventually caught on to my clandestine meetings with him, and though I'd thought they'd turn me into the authorities, they were drawn into the idea as well. Duke, for his part, accepted his new friends with great ease: something I would see in action at greater and greater depth over the next few years.

And even though, Duke liked the company of other people (Wembley caved and told my secret to a couple of her friends, who eventually told it to a couple of _their _friends...) he made it very clear that I was the only one who could get away with ordering him around. I only understood the significance of this during the bathing incident.

* * *

'I need to borrow that old washtub of yours.'

For a minute, Faversham said nothing and continued to weed through his precious plants, entirely ignoring my request _and _my presence. I waited patiently, knowing that he would say something sooner or later. The groundskeeper was a retired army sergeant and valued silence a great deal.

However, he also valued information.

'Why?'

Faversham grunted, pausing in his work to glance at me briefly.

I didn't even consider lying. By this time, nearly everyone in the school knew of Duke's presence. In fact the administration followed the policy of "don't see, don't care" when it came to him.

'Duke needs a bath.'

The corners of Faversham's mouth turned down. He didn't like Duke; even went as far as to chase the dog, whenever he caught sight of him.

'That animal doesn't _need_ anything.'

Faversham grunted and began weeding again.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. How this man could love his stupid plants more than a beautiful, intelligent dog was entirely beyond me.

'Look,' I said evenly, 'the bath's going to happen. Would you rather I drowned your herbs with the water or will you give me the tub?'

Another whole minute passed as Faversham considered what I was saying. I sighed with impatience as he continued to dig methodically. My ADHD wasn't as bad as Percy's but that didn't make it easier to stand around and waste all Saturday morning on the groundskeeper's whims.

Finally, Faversham put his tools down and fixed me with a keen glance. 'How about this,' he suggested, 'I'll let you have the tub if you promise to keep him away from my flowerbeds.'

'Like that's going to happen,' I snorted, 'I can't train him to stay out of your plants.'

'Have you tried?' Faversham countered.

Admittedly, I hadn't. I didn't really care about the plants so I hadn't demarcated them as "off limits" the way I had with the main school building. I didn't even know if I _could _tell Duke to stay off them: he loved those flowers to death. Most mornings he sunned himself by settling in one of them. Very dog in the manger-ish.

I sighed in defeat, 'fine. I'll try. But I don't know if he'll listen to me.'

'Oh he'll listen.' Faversham said offhandedly and went back to his task, 'the dog will go to the moon if you ask him to.'

A little puzzled by the comment (was Faversham praising me or calling Duke an idiot or both?) I waited, hoping the groundskeeper would expound on his theory a little. Another minute of silence later and I decided that to call it quits.

'So where's the bathtub?' I prompted.

Faversham waved vaguely in the direction of the hut which stored all the gardening tools. 'In there. Put it back when you're done.'

Rolling my eyes at him, I turned and headed for the hut.

* * *

Getting the tub (an old plastic model which Faversham usually potted his weaker plants) turned out to be the lesser of my two problems. I literally had to drag Duke by the scruff of his neck (since he objected mightily to wearing a collar) into the water, with him protesting violently all the way.

It wasn't based on any particular concern of mine to suddenly decide to give him bath. Duke had, during the course of his mysterious wanderings found (what smelled like) a garbage dump and had apparently frolicked in the trash all day. When he'd come to meet me on Friday evening, I could barely breathe around him.

And so, on Saturday morning, I went across to the city and bought the necessary items before arguing with Faversham. Duke seemed to think that I was out to get him and kept a constant whine of complaint throughout the tug of war to the tub. In all honesty, I did have way better things to do, but I also realized that Duke needed some tough love if he thought he was going to continue to visit me.

Like most Retrievers, Duke turned out to actually _like _the water once he got in, which of course made me admonish him for the first five minutes. After that though, even I didn't have the heart to keep him up. Bathing Duke turned out to be quite a lot of hard work. While he kept himself relatively clean by rinsing off in a nearby stream, a lot of muck had gathered along his undercoat and his ears were absolutely filthy. Working carefully, I saved his head for last and did a thorough job of his body. Duke of course, couldn't resist shaking every once in a while but I didn't really mind getting splattered because I'd had the foresight to wear some tattered clothes.

Lots of students passed me by and several stopped to watch my labours for a few minutes. None of them volunteered to help. It just went to show that though they considered Duke as _their _dog too, they were quite happy to let me do all the work when it came to looking after him. Humanity, I tell you.

It took me forty minutes to do a satisfactory job after which I got Duke to lie down on an old towel that I'd also borrowed from the tool house. I produced a currying comb and painstakingly went through all his tangles. Let me tell you this: if bathing is an exercise, grooming is worse. While I'd gotten rid of the matting in the bath, his coat was still horrendously complicated to navigate through.

To his credit, Duke never made a sound even when I pulled at his a fur a little too harshly. In fact, for most part, he seemed to enjoy the fact that someone was fussing over him so much.

It was when I was in the middle of checking his ears for signs of infection when a shadow fell over me and I looked up to find that my Chemistry teacher had managed to sneak up us.

Mrs. Rita Johnson wasn't a particularly friendly teacher but she wasn't a complete bitch either. It didn't really matter though, since I'd been caught red handed, consorting with the one thing that the school was determined to keep off its property.

'Ms. Chase,' she began in a distinctly controlled tone, 'what, pray are you doing?'

I looked at the mess of fur at my feet and the comb in my hand and decided to make a clean break of it. At most I'd be suspended for a few days. I could deal with that... even if it did go on my permanent record.

'Um, combing Duke, ma'am.'

My chemistry teacher blinked. 'Yes, I can see that Ms. Chase but have you conveniently forgotten that the dog is not allowed on school grounds?'

I gulped. I wasn't normally scared of teachers but horrible visions of me getting paraded in front of the entire school crossed through my mind. I didn't mind punishments; it was humiliation I didn't deal too well with.

Meanwhile, Duke had sensed that this new stranger in front of him wasn't as friendly as the others. He raised his head off the ground and a faint growl emitted from the back of his throat.

Half afraid that he was going to attack Mrs. Johnson, I put a restraining hand on his head and muttered, 'no, Duke.'

And just like that he stopped growling. My chemistry teacher wasn't the only one surprised by the reaction. I was pretty astonished too. Sure, Duke was fairly obedient but never had I seen him react with such speed. Then again, the dog did have impeccable instincts.

Mrs. Johnson contemplated me for a moment, clearly deciding my fate. 'Ms. Chase, I didn't expect such behaviour from you...'

My heart sank to the bottom of my shoes. Duke's shoulders tensed under my hand.

'...but I'm willing to turn a blind eye if you could impress upon your dog that my car is not part of his territory and he shouldn't... mark it.'

I was so amazed that I couldn't find the words to respond correctly. Mrs. Johnson took my silence to be a "yes" and with a curt nod she continued on her way, carefully skirting the tub which was still filled with dirty bathwater.

A chuckle bubbled its way through my lips and I snorted, trying to contain my laughter. Duke, keeping with personality, poked me with his snout, demanding to know what the joke was. I gazed back at him, fondly feeling the first stirrings of ... possession grip my heart.

For a dog that didn't belong to me; I spent an awful lot of time taking responsibility for his actions.

* * *

A further example of Duke's high (and sometimes paradoxical) regard of me was proved the following week when Sally Jackson came to visit my school. My father had appointed her to be my legal guardian (an offer Sally took inordinate pleasure in saying yes to) stating that she would be the best person to understand the situations a demigod such as myself would inevitably find her way into.

Percy came along with her stating, in his words: _I'm getting a free ride to visit my girlfriend. I'd be an _idiot_ to pass this up._

Sally and Percy had lots of questions when they finally arrived. The former enquiring about how school life was treating me and if I needed anything, the latter wondering out loud if I had any hot friends. I answered Sally dutifully, and hit Percy when his mother's attention was occupied elsewhere.

Eventually the tour worked its way to the extensive grounds. Sally couldn't contain her excitement and proceeded to (unlike me who appreciated nature from a distance) shower all the plants with all the joy she had. I'd had other plans of spending that time (like carting her son off to a secluded corner) but I bore it out patiently. I couldn't have asked for a better guardian than Sally Jackson and if it meant putting up with her odd eccentricities once in a while, I didn't really mind.

I'd waved Duke off a few hours earlier and so was entirely unprepared when Sally emitted a loud shriek when she bent to examine a bunch of sunflowers and found a dog instead.

'Oh dear!' She exclaimed retreating hastily into Percy at me, 'is the dog supposed to be there?'

Gathering from her tone that she wasn't much of a dog person, I said soothingly, 'don't worry Mrs. Jackson. Duke's just... a friend.'

'A friend?' Percy repeated, edging away from the flowerbed as well and shooting me an incredulous glance, 'I thought you said you had _actual _human friends!'

Rolling my eyes at him, I went forward and pat Duke (who had by this time opened his eyes to see what the commotion is about) on the head. 'Really; he's harmless. Duke wouldn't hurt a soul.'

Sally looked at me doubtfully. 'Are you sure, dear? I think I should probably tell your Principal—'

'What? No!' I put a protective hand on Duke who nuzzled me happily with his comfortingly, 'really, Mrs. Jackson he isn't a threat.'

Sally didn't look convinced. Percy didn't help matters by he was looking at Duke with extreme suspicion. I wondered how it was possible that two people –who liked a mythological hellhound–, had an inexplicable fear of ordinary dogs.

Deciding that a demonstration was in order, I turned to Duke. 'Hey, buddy. These are friends of mine. Show me paw.'

Duke cocked his head to one side as though saying: _do I have to, really?_

Unperturbed by his disinterest, I repeated the command.

Sighing heavily to himself, Duke stretched and got up, showering dirt everywhere. Trying not to wince when I saw the damaged plants (I'd tried my best to keep my promise to Mr. Faversham but it hadn't really worked out as well I'd hoped) I pointed to Sally first, assuming that Percy would feel a little better if he saw his mom was safe.

Duke gazed at Sally for a full ten seconds before extending his paw, holding it out deferentially in front of him.

Sally hesitated but after I nodded encouragingly, she took the paw and gave it a little squeeze, even managing a little, 'good boy.'

Duke's ears pricked at the praise and he leaned forward and licked Sally happily, across her chin.

'He likes you.' I said quickly, hoping she wouldn't take offense to the admittedly, unpleasant gesture. Sally considered this for a moment and then smiled, her eyes lighting up with pleasure. She trailed her hand across Duke's (relatively) clean fur (I'd decided to bath him every week) and scratched under his chin.

Duke closed his eyes in pleasure, enjoying the ministrations.

'See,' I looked at Percy with triumphant, 'Duke's awesome. You just have to give him a chance.'

My boyfriend didn't look convinced. 'I can't believe you decided to get a dog.'

'I didn't decide to—' I stopped, aware that the real explanation would be too much of a bother to give. Instead I took Percy's hand and pulled him forward, 'c'mon, Duke's really friendly.'

Percy didn't move but thankfully, Sally decided to vouch for my words. 'He _is_ quite friendly,' she said straightening up after giving Duke a final pat, 'I just need to wash my face now.'

'The water fountain's over there, Mrs. Jackson.' I pointed it out.

Sally shot me a grateful grin and ambled away, her path wavering to examine the other bunches of flowers. I grinned at Percy who was watching Duke with a mild look of consternation on his face.

'You know, I didn't take you for a coward.' I commented, hoping that the reverse psychology would work even if it was painfully obvious.

Sure enough Percy, flushed with embarrassment. 'I'm not!' He sighed loudly and took a step closer to Duke who was busily licking his paw, 'hey boy.'

The reaction was instantaneous. Duke's head snapped up and his ears flatted against his head. The growl which followed low ferocious and filled with underlying promises of ripping somebody to shreds.

I'd never seen Percy retreat so quickly. One moment he was right beside me, the next there was a distance of two feet between us.

'Are you trying to _kill _me, Annabeth?' He yelped.

Annoyed by his tone, and yes, very annoyed by Duke's behaviour I snapped. 'You're invincible, Seaweed Brain. Stop overreacting!'

Ignoring Percy's muttered curses I turned to Duke who was waving his tail happily at me as though he'd just done something commendable. Glaring at him, I crouched down, making sure we were eye to eye.

'What the hell Duke?' I put a hand on his chin, tilting it up and so that he was forced to look at me, 'I told you they were my friends!'

Duke whined and shifted, trying to move away but I held on to him firmly. I didn't mind that he had his own way with all the other people, but I did expect him to listen to me occasionally. It wasn't as though Percy was an axe murderer.

'C'mon,' I said in my best commanding voice, 'Percy is a friend. Shake paw!'

Duke held my gaze defiantly and didn't move a muscle. Refusing to back down, I stared right back, aware that this was some sort of important thing that I had to win. I'd never pretended to be his master and I certainly wasn't going to start now but certain lines had to be drawn. He couldn't go around attacking people he didn't like. Something like that could get him shot at.

Percy shuffled a little closer. 'It's not a big deal Annabeth; let it—'

'It _is _big deal!' I insisted, not taking my gaze off the intelligent blue eyes in front of me. 'You're a friend of mine and he needs to treat you accordingly.'

For the life of me though; I didn't know why I was pushing so hard. Technically, it shouldn't have made much of a difference to me since Duke hadn't physically done anything. But for some reason –some, deep unfathomable reason– I wanted Duke to trust me enough to follow my lead. I didn't know why: but it was very important to have Percy and the dog that didn't really belong to me to get along.

Duke held out for a whole minute before eventually dropping his head in defeat. I felt no sense of victory, only relief and when he raised his paw (stiffly) for Percy to shake, I rolled my eyes as the childishness. Then again, he still was a puppy, even though his size said otherwise.

Percy glanced at me. 'You sure this time?'

'Pretty sure. I responded and but didn't move from my spot near Duke in case things went out of hand.

Sighing, Percy took the paw hesitantly and jiggled it a little, his expression telling me that he was ready to flee at the moment's notice. His wariness was unnecessary because Duke, despite making it clear that he didn't like Percy (though I didn't know why) was a dog that seemed to pride himself on his word and true to it; he completed the ritual which spoke of friendship mechanically, his eyes fixed on Percy's unwaveringly, his tail unusually still.

'The things I do for you...' Percy muttered once he dropped Duke's paw. I grinned at him and slipped my hand into his, ridiculously glad that he'd trusted me enough to go through with that I'd told him to.

Duke however, hadn't taken to the experience too nicely. With an affronted shake of his head, he jumped off the flowerbed and paused long enough to glare at me, leaving me in no doubt that he didn't approve of the company I kept.

Then, with an annoyed whine, he turned and stalked away, doing his best to trample all of Faversham's precious plants in his path.


End file.
